


情侣

by deardeobi



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: 中文-普通话 國語
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 10:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deardeobi/pseuds/deardeobi
Relationships: Cai Xukun/Wang Ziyi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	情侣

Knowledge is power. It’s a saying as old as time– unmovable in its certainty and undeniable in its value, the kind that changes the tides of wars and guides the winds of change– so it’s fair to say that whoever’s in possession of it, of truth, of knowledge, is in the advantageous position, not unlike picking white in a game of chess.

Even so, there are few people who actually understand the importance of it. 

Zhengting, however, has made it his job to know things, for the kingdom he serves and the king he’s sworn his life to, but more importantly for himself, to satisfy his own curiosity and thirst for knowledge. It may as well be selfish, but once Zhengting got a taste for it, he couldn’t stop, this hunger inside him overwhelming, at once the best and worst trait of his.

So Zhengting spends the better part of his life studying, learning and observing and growing, but it’s not always earth shattering facts or inconceivable truths that could take down kingdoms, sometimes it’s something infinitely more humble, but painfully more humane.   
Sometimes, Zhengting catches glimpses of secrets, of hidden gestures and heavy words and unintentional truths, and has to stop himself from digging until he gets to the heart of them.

He does succeed most of the time, but there are some secrets that are just not meant to be kept, because some things are too big to keep hidden, too important. It’s those kinds of secrets that keep growing, overflowing until Zhengting can’t bring himself to look away.   
And at first, it’s easy enough to miss it if you don’t know where to look, the truth so neatly hidden behind the most truthful of lies that even Zhengting overlooks it at the beginning.

It’s because of a mistake really, that he finds out about it.

Zhengting happens to join the king in the audience for the monthly friendly spar between his son, the crown-prince Cai Xukun, and the head of the royal guard and Xukun’s personal guard since young, Wang Ziyi. It’s a familiar sight and Zhengting only half pays attention to the match, already used to the ease of their moves and Ziyi’s choreographed descent into a loss, having never gone full out against Xukun even once.   
But as he’s too busy with his research to stay for the rest of the exhibit once their match ends, Zhengting excuses himself, thankful that the king easily lets him go.

What Zhengting does not expect is to stumble upon Ziyi and Xukun on his way back to the library, the two of them having apparently skipped the rest of the exhibition too. He opens his mouth to greet them, his mind having already started putting together an appropriate enough praise for their exhibit match, but the words catch in Zhengting’s throat when the sight in front of him actually registers.

It takes a second only because the two of them are always together, never too far from each other, but it doesn’t take longer than that for Zhengting to realise the difference in their closeness. He immediately ducks out of sight, his heart jumping in his chest at the very off feeling of having witnessed something that maybe he shouldn’t have been privy to.

“You’re really terrible, you know that?” Xukun says, voice carefully kept low enough that even Zhengting barely catches it. He can still make out the pout in it, can almost imagine the petulant curve of his mouth and even though he knows he shouldn’t be hearing this in the first place, he can’t bring himself to move.

“Nobody wants to see the crown-prince lose, Kun.” There’s no formal language, no Your Highness, nor my Lord, the tone of Ziyi’s voice amused, round with something else, sweeter even. All of the usual sharpness has melted into a warm sort of fondness and Zhengting almost can’t believe that it’s Ziyi speaking, his usual uptight demeanor all but gone as if it was never there, “They’re all here to see our future king defeat the head of the royal guard.”

“That’s just plain stupid. You’re meant to protect me, so obviously you should be stronger than me.”  
That makes Ziyi laugh, bright and louder than their conversation, “And I am. I would gladly give my life for yours.”

“Now that’s even stupider. How can you even protect me if you’re dead?” Xukun asks, but there’s something else to his tone, something Zhengting hasn’t heard in his haughty, bubbly voice before, something so different than what he's used to that he can't help the way it piques his interest, the reason Xukun can sound so utterly soft.

Ziyi whispers something then, too quiet to make out, and Zhengting finds himself glancing at them when there's a lull in their conversation, an audible hush falling over them. The sight that greets him makes his breath catch in his throat, hand flying up to cover his mouth before he can make a sound, because Ziyi’s hand is sliding along Xukun’s cheek, touch gentle and careful as they both lean in as if they can’t help it, barely any space between them.

Xukun’s cheeks are so pink, eyes fluttering closed as Ziyi tilts his head back, and this may just be the first time Zhengting has seen him be quite so pliable, with none of the usual fire and grit. He’s the crown-prince, the child of the prophecy and the future king, chosen by the sun and burning just as hot and as bright, and yet here he is, brought down to a simmer, unfurling like the petals of a flower under Ziyi’s touch.

Zhengting stares and stares, unable to tear his eyes away, because Xukun fits into Ziyi’s arms like he belongs there, so easily letting himself be led when Zhengting has never seen him give an inch before. It’s something more than trust, something Zhengting doesn’t think he can fully understand, but when he looks at Ziyi he thinks he gets it, if only just a bit.

Ziyi handles Xukun like he’s something precious, as if he can’t quite believe he’s even allowed this, an untainted sort of reverence to the way he touches him, looks at him like he knows he’s holding the sun in his hands, so utterly careful not to stifle its light while fully trusting that it won’t burn him. Or maybe Ziyi just wouldn’t mind getting burned, his gaze so fond that maybe he’d gladly let himself be burnt to the ground if he can have this.

Zhengting feels his chest tighten and he turns around to leave before he gives himself away, not wanting to interrupt what’s something that’s clearly not meant for anyone to see.

And yet after he’s caught one glimpse of it, he can’t help but see it everywhere. It’s the very point of hiding in plain sight, like hiding a tree in a forest, but now that Zhengting has seen the tree bloom, it keeps catching his eyes, its flowers unlike any of the others.

Ziyi and Xukun are undoubtedly good at keeping it a secret, something Zhengting can only assume comes from practice, the distance between them always perfectly appropriate, speech proper and interactions adequately formal, enough that you wouldn’t even think to question it. After all, it’s only to be expected that Ziyi would be by Xukun’s side. But if you know what to look for, it becomes very hard to miss.

Their hands are very honest for one. Ziyi’s always reaching for Xukun, be it to brush his hair back as he complains about his studies when he thinks nobody’s looking, or to pull him to his feet after defeating him in a practice spar, or to fix the fall of his robes, or, in quieter moments, to drag gentle fingers along his jaw until Xukun’s melting into him. It’s always much too familiar and Ziyi always seems loath to pull back, Xukun leaning into it and into him without a moment’s hesitation.

And then there’s their eyes.

Sometimes Zhengting can’t help but look away with how terribly unguarded they are. They never look away, always following the other, watching, waiting. And there’s a certain sort of longing there, like Ziyi’s never quite close enough, but there’s also hunger, like Xukun could swallow him whole, a promise of sorts even, and more than anything, there’s undeniable admiration and boundless fondness. It almost feels cheap to call it love, something about the enormity of it managing to take Zhengting’s breath away whenever he happens to witness it.

Zhengting knows it’s not any of his business, knows that even if it were, there’s nothing he can actually do about it, but he can’t help but think about it anyway.

“What’s got you all worried now?”  
Zhengting’s heart almost stops in his chest, but he carefully stops himself from jumping at the sound of Yanjun’s voice, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Nothing you can do anything about, unfortunately.”

  
Yanjun, in a way, also deals with knowledge, a bit differently than Zhengting however.

Zhengting looks for secrets that are meant to be found, hidden away simply because there’s no one looking, but Yanjun takes them forcibly from the people in possession of them. It should probably make Zhengting be a little scared of him, or at least wary, but all he can muster is resigned fondness.

Yanjun follows his gaze to the courtyard where Ziyi and Xukun are practicing, or trying to, with Xukun pulling Ziyi down with him when he offers a hand to help him stand up, their laughter loud under the waning afternoon sun.

“So I guess you found out about them, huh?” Yanjun asks, grinning unrepentantly when Zhengting turns to level him with an incredulous look.

“Found out- You knew already?”

“Kinda comes with the job.”

Zhengting’s eyes narrow at Yanjun’s easy shrug, brows pulling together as Yanjun just keeps looking at the two of them, a tiny smile pulling at his lips, “Does that mean the king knows?”

“Definitely not. I have no plans of telling him either, ‘cause I quite like Ziyi, you know? I don’t want to see his head on a spike at the castle gates.” Yanjun says it so matter-of-factly that it takes a moment for the words to register, the bottom of Zhengting’s stomach dropping at the implication.

“What are you even- He’s the youngest person to have become the head of the royal guard! He’s wildly talented and incredibly smart and-”

“He’s also an orphan with nothing to offer.”

“I just told you-” Zhengting’s words trail off when Yanjun finally turns to look at him, all traces of his smile gone as he regards him with what Zhengting could only call hopelessness. He’s not saying it because he’s trying to be mean, or even pessimistic, he’s saying it because it’s the truth, because there’s nothing either of them can do about it and it’s better if Zhengting knows early on.   
“Xukun wouldn’t let that happen. They are in love with each other, Yanjun.”

“I know, and Xukun can have absolutely anything he wants, but it’s anything but this. There’s a reason he’s so thorough about keeping this a secret– their losses would be too big if they let it slip.”

However, Zhengting firmly believes that there’s a limit to how long they can keep this hidden, how properly they can keep it under wraps, because he’s only been looking at them for a short while and yet even he can tell that this isn’t going anywhere, that it’s not something they’re just going to get over with time.

It’s a conviction that only gets stronger with time and when Yanjun sneaks into his room in the middle of the night, worry coloring every line of his expression, and says, “It’s Ziyi, you need to come quickly!” Zhengting can’t help the feeling of dread that claws its way up the inside of his chest to lodge into his throat, fearing the worst.

But Yanjun doesn’t lead him to the castle gates, or to the execution grounds, but rather to Xukun’s quarters, the number of guards dwindling the closer they get until they reach the double doors of Xukun’s chambers and there’s no one there to guard them.   
It makes Zhengting frown, because he can’t quite grasp the situation, and he barely gets to open his mouth to ask for more details when Yanjun pushes open the doors and all of his words die on his tongue.

His gaze immediately falls on Xukun’s crumpled form by the side of the bed, shoulders curved in and trembling. He’s crying, cheeks red with it as round, silent tears slip down his cheeks in quick succession and only as the shock starts to really sink in does Zhengting notice that he’s holding a hand in both of his, knuckles pressed to his mouth as he whispers words that Zhengting can’t make out against the skin, silent as a prayer.

“Is he-”

“He’s fine, Ziyi just collapsed and Xukun panicked, wanted to call his personal physician over.” Yanjun says quickly, “I called you over since it would be bad if anyone saw them like this.”

Bad doesn’t even begin to describe it. Zhengting can’t seem to tear his eyes away from them, from the soon-to-be king so easily brought down to his knees, crying like he never has before, small and afraid by the side of his bed and holding onto Ziyi’s hand for dear life. He looks at them and Zhengting can’t tell who the king is.

Xukun’s eyes are wide when he turns to look at him, expression so hopeful even through his tears that Zhengting feels his chest tighten, an ache that he just can’t seem to shake off. And Ziyi is fine, having collapsed only because of overwork and stubbornly trying to ignore his rising fever, failing miserably at getting it to go away through sheer force of will, but it had been enough to flip Xukun’s entire world on its head.

It’s not bad, it’s terrible.

Zhengting ends up staying with them until Ziyi wakes up, breath sticking in his throat as the first thing Ziyi does in his fever induced haze is to reach for Zhengting, taking one of his hands and pressing it to his mouth in the same way Xukun had, before pulling him in, so utterly gentle that Zhengting feels like crying. This shouldn’t have to be a secret, not something like this, something more certain than any prophecy could ever be.

“You want him to be yours, don’t you?” Zhengting asks when Xukun takes off with Yanjun to go pick up some of Ziyi’s clothes, stubbornly refusing to let him leave until he’s feeling completely better, unfailingly confident that he can see through Ziyi’s lies if he tries to claim that he’s fine without meaning it again.

The question makes Ziyi smile, but it’s a fragile little thing, “I don’t want him, it’s not that simple. I just can’t even breathe when he’s not around, can’t think when he is, and I feel lost when he’s crying and like I never wanna be found when he’s laughing. I want to live in the space between his ribs so I can feel each of his heartbeats until the day they stop.” he says, an awfully painful honesty to his words, “So no, I don’t want him Zhengting, because he’s not something I can have.”

Zhengting has to look away from Ziyi’s gaze, the unshakable resignation there making his stomach lurch, “But you could, he’s in love with you too.” He knows it’s not that simple, knows Ziyi has probably thought of this for much longer than he has, but he can’t help it, can’t help but want to believe that something this special has to mean something.

“You don’t think I know? It would be so much easier if he wasn’t, if it was just me, the fool that fell in love with the crown-prince like every other person that lays eyes on him. I wouldn’t mind being in pain, never have, but seeing him hurt is worse than any punishment.”

It’s something Zhengting can’t even begin to imagine, having to be by the side of someone you love with every inch of your being, that loves you back just as much, but never being able to be with them, to wake up to their face every morning.

“What are you going to do when he has to get married, Ziyi? Have children? Live a life with someone else? Could you still watch over him then?”

It seems to be a foolish question, because Ziyi laughs, none of the happiness reaching his eyes, “As if I could ever look away. I’m going to be by his side until the day I take my last breath, or until he decides that he doesn’t want me by his side anymore and not a day earlier. I am going to watch him become the greatest king that ever was, because he’s meant for greatness, Zhengting, not for nameless nobodies, so I would rather die than take that away from him.”

Zhengting opens his mouth, to protest maybe, even though he has no words to say to that, but then the doors bang open and Xukun’s bounding in, jumping on top of Ziyi without a second thought to smother him in kisses, so loud and full of light as Ziyi unfurls under his touch, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other.

It makes Zhengting’s chest hurt, because as he takes in their bright smiles and easy familiarity, he doesn’t know whose heart is going to break in tinier pieces, or if it’s even something one can recover from, an affliction of the soul something much too complex to ever fully put back together. 

  
Zhengting has made it his job to know things, and yet he’s never seen a bigger and more tragic love.


End file.
